The Pride
by Ancient Fox
Summary: Its about as normal day as you can have when you're an Alpha. That is, until someone new comes prowling the streets of Beacon Hills. Pairings change as the writers of the show see fit to change them. Begins in S3 Part2.
1. Setting the Mood

"There is a way, but it's dangerous." Deaton said, his eyes holding Scott's gaze. "Essentially, you Stiles and Allison need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents." Stiles stood next to the man. Hands in his pockets, silent as the man regaled them with what was necessary. Scott blanched at the word 'sacrifice.'

"We die for them?" he asked incredulously, he glanced at Stiles, waiting for the punchline on what had to be the worst joke ever.

Stiles spoke up this time. "But he can bring us back." He grimaced and looked at Deacon for affirmation. "You can... you can ring us back. Right?"

"You remember the part where I said it was dangerous? If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds. But," Deaton paused, eyes flitting between Scott and Stiles, "There's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing for more reasons than one." He leaned against Stiles' jeep almost as if he was bracing himself. "You'll be giving power _back_ to the Nemeton. It's a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet. It attracts the supernatural. The kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill the pages of a Bestiary with. It will draw them _here_. Like a beacon.

Stiles made a face.

"Doesn't…sound any worse than anything we've already seen." Deaton fixed him with a reproachful look, and Scott smiled as much as he good given the gravity of the situation.

Deaton said, "You be surprised at what you've yet to see."

His statement lingered in the air. Scott and Stiles both turned pensive at his words. What else could there be? They had seen a pack of Alphas, Peter return to life, Jackson becoming a damn Kanima. Scott finally broke the silence.

"Is that it?" he asked, referring to what Deaton was laying out of him and his friends.

Deaton pursed his lips. "No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you." At the looks given by both teens he continued. "You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of a darkness around your heart….and permanent, like a scar."

-The Pride—

It had been weeks since they had performed the ritual. Each of them were struggling, both with how the Nemeton affected them, and with not telling the others about it. Stiles had been having nightmares and waking dreams, but it had taken a turn for the worse the previous night, when a nightmare turned into a night terror, forcing him to wake up screaming. Scott was imagining that he was losing the control of his transformations seeing shadows of his claws, or of his wolf form when he was walking. Allison was suffering from waking dreams of her dead Aunt Kate, only to wake from them to find herself in the middle of something, as if her body was acting of its own accord. It came to a head one day at school Stiles and Scott were at their lockers, having just finished History with their new teacher Mr. Yukimura. Stiles bent over his school locker, not especially paying attention to his actions as he twisted the combination dial on the lock. He had done it so many times it was almost pure muscle memory. Meanwhile Scott, using his supernatural senses, eavesdropped on the conversation his new teacher was having with his daughter Kira, a girl who sat a few rows behind him in the class he had just exited. Stiles jerked the lock down to open it, but found it stuck. He frowned and jerked it down again, harder this time. It didn't open. He continued jerking until he realized looking at the dial that he wasn't looking at the usual combination lock that numbered from one to sixty around the edge. Instead of numbers there were now symbols instead of where twenty might be, there was a triangle. In place if the number fifty-five, there were two vertical bars. Stiles' eyes widened as his mind brought up information he had picked up from his research into sleep related illnesses and dreams. He was turned form his thoughts when he glanced at Scott and nearly jumped out of his skin. Scott's eyes were glowing bright Alpha-Red. "Scott!" He hissed at his best friend who seemingly had not noticed he was making his eyes glow. "Dude, your eyes." Scott looked at him with none eyebrow raised.

"What about them?"

"They're starting to glow."

"Are not."

"Are too!" He grabbed his phone so Scott could see his reflection in the screen. Scott's eyelids fluttered as he made an effort to turn his eye glowing power off. His breathing became panicked and he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from anyone who might be looking his way. "Stiles, I can't control it." Stiles groaned and looked around for one of the convenient empty classrooms their high-school had an overabundance for. Spotting one nary a few feet away across the hall, he looped his arm under Scott's shoulder and guided him in, closing the door and bolting it behind him. Scott shrugged off his backpack as soon as he was inside, tossing it away without looking at it. He almost ripped off his jacket in the haste to get it off of him. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he sucked in greedy gulps of air, he felt as if the temperature in the room had risen by twenty degrees and he had suddenly broke out in sweats. He stumbled through rows of desks, grasping some for stabilization as his lack of control over the wolf inside drove him to a panic. Stiles reached out for him and tried to offer some measure of comfort. "Scott, its ok-" Scott waved him off with a swing of his arm that knocked his hand away.

"Get back away from me!" he warned his friend, stumbling to the next row of desks. At this point he was almost hyperventilating. "I don't know what going to happen. Get back!" he panted out.

All of a sudden the door was knocked in. Stiles wheeled about to face the interloper, moving in front of Scott so his eyes and panicked state might not be immediately noticed. "Dude, that door was locked for a reason." He held out his hands to stop the person that was walking purposefully towards him, a kid who looked around their age. To his surprise, not only did the guy not stop, but before Stiles could even react, the man had a hand under either armpit, and quickly lifted Stiles like a small child over a row of desks and out him on the other side, out of his way. He turned back to Scott who was still leaned over a desk, and had just looked up to see someone stride over to him. He was too stunned to stop the man from taking Scotts clawed hands in his own, balling them up so his claws bit into the palm of his hand, and then forced his hands to tighten into a fist, driving his own claws into his flesh. Scott groaned softly, but the pain cleared his mind and he remembered that pain could be used to make werewolves human again. The man stopped holding his hands, but they remained fists as he tightened them even more, blood dripping freely onto his undershirt and the linoleum floor. His eyes flickered from red to natural brown a few times, before settling to brown and staying there. Stiles had hopped over the desks at this point and shoved the person away, squatting down in front of his friend to see if he was okay. Scott gasped as he unclenched his now human hand and calmed his breathing enough to whisper, "Pain make us human." to Stiles. As one, they looked up at the person who had known what to do.

They didn't recognize him. He wasn't fat, but still on the large side, pushing maybe 230 lbs. He stood at the same height as Scott, and his black hair was pushed back across his head, but seemed almost too thick to stay that way as bits of it fell back down across his forehead and he would absent-mindedly push it back up every once in a while when it did so. His facial hair wasn't nearly as thick as Dereks was, but think enough to let it grow out for a week or two without looking silly. He leaned on one of the desks close to them, one eyebrow raised and a stultified look on his face as if he regularly walked in on werewolves unable to control themselves in empty classrooms. He straightened his light blue shirt, picked some imaginary lint off of his dark wash jeans and turned to leave without another word.

"Dude. What the hell." Stiles regained his senses first. The kid looked back at them with a blank expression on his face before snapping his fingers.

"Woops. That's right. Totally my fault." He suddenly became talkative as he swung his grey messenger bag off his wide shoulders and opened it to rummage around while looking inside for something. "Becca says I forget things at the worst times. It is somewhat of a personal flaw, one of many, mind you." He nattered on while still rummaging through his messenger bag. Finally he made an 'Aha!' noise and pulled out a spiral bound notebook which he promptly flipped open to a blank page. He uncapped a pen with his teeth and clenched the cap between his teeth looking rather goofy as he scribbled something onto the paper. He finished his writing with a tap of the pen and ripped the paper out and folded it in half before offering it to the confused teens. They stared at him, blinking owlishly. He continued to hold it, and wiggling the paper slightly, making to flap lightly in the air. "Come oooon." He drew out the last word, "The paper isn't gonna bite, I promise! Look," he set it down on the desk. "It's an address. My address actually. Just come tonight. Bring your other supernaturally inclined homies and those Argents as well." He laughed at their wide eyed looks "Yeah, I've done my homework on y'all. But anyways, please come tonight, I promise everything will be explained and this isn't just some plot to murder you or anything." At this point he reached the doorway and waved at them. "Bye new friends! See you tonight." And with that he exited the room humming to himself. Stiles and Scott both rushed to the door to stop him and ask a million questions they had, but when they reached the door seconds later and peaked out into the hall to look at the dwindling number of students who hadn't yet reached their class, there was no sight of him. You'd think it be easy to spot a large humming high-schooler, but they could not spot him.

Scott and Stiles turned to each other, yet neither could muster words at what had happened. Stiles knelt down by the door and ran a hand along where it had been bolted shut minutes ago. Scott spoke first. "He must be like us. He has to be. He knew exactly what to do, and how to do it. We need to tell the group about this, right Stiles? Stiles?" His friend was still looking at the door and its frame, trying to remove something with his fingers. After a few seconds of scrabbling, he pulled it out and clenched it in his hand.

He didn't get up immediately, but instead turned his head towards Scott to speak with him. "Scott…whoever this guy is, we need to be careful."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because," He sighed as he straightened his legs and stood back up. "He's strong. Really strong. Remember how the door was locked?" Scott nodded. "I dead bolted it, Scott. These doors are real solid wood, not that balsa crap. They're heavy, man." He opened his hand. In it, was the remains of the deadbolt. It looked as if the steel bolt had been ripped apart when the door was kicked open. "He kicked a 50 pound door so hard that it snapped a steel bolt in half, Scott." His friend's eyes widened. Stiles walked over to wear the folded paper lay, having been forgotten in the excitement, written on it was an address, with 'Free Food!' written in tiny letters by it, and a crude drawing of a stick figure giving the peace sign. "I don't know if this guy is bad news or not, but even if he isn't, he needs to be watched."

Scott picked up his backpack and jacket off of the floor form where he had thrown them earlier. It was going to be an interesting year.

The rest of the school day passed without too much incident. Lydia confronted Allison, Stiles, and Scott about the problems they had been having since becoming sacrifices to the Nemeton, and as a group they sat down to take a look at what was happening. Scott and Stiles relayed what happened earlier in the empty classroom. Lydia was the first to pipe up, flipping her hair over her shoulders as she did so.

"It's like Dr. Deaton said. The Nemeton received power form the three of you, now people are being drawn to it. We had to know that this was going to happen sooner or later." She crossed her arms, thinking. "Scott, if he wanted to hurt you and Stiles, he might've been able to do it. But at the same time, he said he's 'done his homework' so he has to know you're not powerless. And it would be a bad idea to start something like a fight with an Alpha in the middle of a high-school during the day. Too many people. Does anyone recognize the address?" she asked, fingers splaying over the paper the guy had written on. Stiles spoke this time.

"Yeah, it's one of those newer houses on the northern end of Beacon Hill: 'The Glades.'" He said, using air quotations around the name of the neighborhood. "Not the richest part of Beacon, but it's pretty nice there. He's our age, so he must live with his parents right?" Stiles looked at the others. Scott had been silent this whole time cleared his throat.

"We know nothing about this guy, except for two things. One, he's strong. He snapped a deadbolt on that door like it was nothing. You didn't see his eyes glowing or anything werewolf related when he came in the room, did you Stiles?" Upon seeing him shake his head, Scott continued. "Two, he knew exactly what to do, and he did it fast. He had to have seen me start to lose it in the hallway. It's the only explanation. I think we should go to his place tonight, and hear what he has to say. If we get weirded out or Lydia starts doing her Banshee thing, then we get out of there." Everyone nodded in affirmation.

-The Pride-

Later that night, they piled in Stiles' Jeep and drove to the address written on the paper. Scott and Stiles sat in the front, with Allison, Lydia and Isaac. Lydia as usual looked prepared for anything, and Allison wore an outfit that looked nice, but an observing eye could see it was loose in areas that needed space to move, as well as the tell-tale bulge in her clothing that indicated she had a few sharp tools hidden away. They made their way to the house. The neighborhood was nice. All the houses were constructed differently with varying sizes and styles. The Jeep wound through the well-lit streets, making its way past long driveways with nice cars, and quaint man-made ponds with small fountains shooting water up in gentle arcs.

"Hey, I think that's it." Scott said, leaning forward in his seat and pointing at a brightly lit house as they came around a wide bend. It was three stories high including the attic, the stairway leading up to the entrance of the house was stone, and led to a wrap-around front porch adorned with wrought iron railings. Large double-pane Bay windows dotted the outside of the house on all three stories, bits of gold and brown stained glass dotted the windows in no particular placement, and the light shining through them dotted the lawn with splashes of color. They walked up to the door, which was colored bright red, a contrasting shade compared to the white that made up the main color of the house, and light browns that the trim consisted of. Scott looked at the others, not quite sure what he was feeling since he was stepping into the unknown. But he was an Alpha, and he wouldn't be cowed by the action of knocking a door. But all the same, he rang the doorbell instead. The doorbell rang out a two-tone sound. _Ding Dong_. The door was opened almost immediately. Scott and company blinked at the person who opened the door, and they stared back in kind. It was most assuredly not the guy who Scott and Stiles had run into earlier that day. It was a girl their age, of Arabic ethnicity perhaps, with her long black hair tied in a simple ponytail that reached the middle of her shoulder blades. She had an athletic body that was covered by tight jeans and a shirt that was short enough to show a hint of sinuous stomach muscles ripple beneath her brown skin. "You're the Alpha that Michael hasn't shut up about?' She asked, in a tone that sounded like she did not expect an answer. She folded her arms and leaned against the doorway, not having moved aside to let them enter. She didn't sound or look happy to see them.

A familiar voice floated from inside the house, growing louder as they spoke, and the accompanying footfalls signified someone was getting closer while talking. "Calista! What did I say about being needlessly antagonistic to guests, hmm? I could've sworn it was something along the lines of, 'Calista, be a dear and get the door when they arrive." The voice belonged to none other than the youth who had invited them to the very house they were standing in. He wrapped an arm around Calista's shoulders in a friendly manner, Scott noticed her face softened a bit when he did so, and grinned at the group toothily. He continued, "Yes, yes, I'm quite sure that's what I said and not 'Sass them into leaving.'" He stuck out his tongue in a teasing manner. Calista rolled her eyes as if she were all too used to the man's antics. Michael turned to her and said, "Now, I was wondering if you could take my place finishing dinner preparations with the others while I introduce myself to our new friends." Calista nodded and turned to leave, but not before glancing back Scott and company reproachfully. Michael clapped his hands together. "You'll have to forgive Calista, she's not the biggest fan of new people, but I'm sure she'll warm up a little before tonight is over. Now, allow me to introduce myself." He extended a hand to Scott, which he took almost immediately out of reflex. However once he grabbed the hand, he found he couldn't let go, not that he wasn't able to, but something was telling him to keep holding on. Michaels grip intensified in that instant, and Scott just knew he was dealing with someone born with power, just like him. Michael got an intense look in his eye as his warm smile suddenly fell away, mouth settling in a firm line.

"Hello, Scott McCall. My name is Michael Eccleston." Michael said in a tone that made him suddenly different form the easygoing man he was moments ago. Scott could feel the power rolling off of him, as well as something else… Scott gasped audibly.

"You're not a werewolf."

What could only be described as a predatory glint appeared in Michael's eye now. He leaned in, and although he spoke softly, everyone heard him.

"Much like you are the Alpha of your pack, I am the leader of my own group. And you're right. I'm not a werewolf." And with that statement, his eyes _glowed_. Lydia both took a step back, Allison thrust a hand under her blouse for the comfort of a weapon, Isaac stepped right behind his Alpha and slightly in front of Allison, his eyes glowing bright yellow, and Stiles was oddly still, taking everything in as it happened. Michael's eyes were glowing with the same fierceness that Scotts eyes did, except instead of the Blood Red of an Alpha were-wolf, they glowed a deep, vibrant, o _range_. "My name is Michel Eccleston," He repeated, pronouncing every syllable as if an actor on a stage. "I am a Were-Lion, and I am the Rex on my Pride. I am the King of my Jungle, and you shall be my General, Scott McCall."

 **AN:**

Well, boys and girls this is the first I've written in YEARS. Honestly, I'm surprised that I'm even submitting this on fanfiction right now, but this plot bunny just got written so quickly. I've had plenty if ideas for fics over the years, plenty. But they would never flesh out like this one has. Anyways, lemme know what you think. This chapter is short as this was the perfect ending for this right now. Im gonna be averaging at least 10,000 words per chapter, probably more. Please, leave me a review.

Tell me what you specifically LIKED.

Tell me what you specifically DIDN'T LIKE.

If some of my writing feels or sounds wonky to you, let me know! I view writing this as the ultimate practice tool.

And last but not least, if you have any suggestions, let me know. This story will follow the show pretty darn closely, but if theres something you feel that would be PERFECT for this fic, write to me and tell me. Also, I know how many Sterek fans there are on this fandom. If you sort by stories that are most reviewed, almost the entire first page is comepletely dominated by Sterek pairings. The characters in this show will be dating/fornicating/cuddling with the people they are set up with in the show. I plan to keep everyone's sexuality the same as it is one the show. Im going to do my best to keep this OC as far away from being a Mary-Sue as possible, but if you ever feel like im getting too close to that line, please tell me. Guys, I thrive on feedback and interaction. But I'll sign off now

 **NEXT TIME ON THE PRIDE:** dinner is served, explanations are had, and the story is set as the adventure begins in earnest.


	2. Proper Introductions

Hey guys! I'm back with Chapter 2! I started writing as soon as I published the first chapter. I have a fire lit under me, so the words are just pouring out like water right now. Without further ado, I present to you Chapter 2 of The Pride.

" _I am a Were-Lion, and I am the Rex on my Pride. I am the King of my Jungle, and you shall be my General, Scott McCall."_

Scott was confused to say the least.

"You want me to be your what?" he asked, still gripping Michael's hand for some reason. The man looked down and blinked, as if realizing that both Scott's and his hands were still clasped. He relaxed his grip and let go. Scott jerked back his hand as if it had been burned. Stiles took the moment to put his two cents in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. Hi there." He waved his hand in Michaels face, forcing the man to lean back from the position he had been in. "Yeah, just a few points of interest here." Stiles was reaching his rhythm, and it was something to watch. "You said 'were-lion'? I'm all too familiar with those, but lions? That's a little odd. What's next, were-coyotes?" He looked around when no one chuckled. Scott was still staring straight at Michael. Stiles continued. "I mean, your little speech there was something out of a comic book. Did you actually hear what you said? Cuz we did, and I'll admit, it was kinda cool, but super cheesy."

Michael looked at Stiles and put a warm smile back on. "I like you. What was your name again?"

"Stiles Stalinski."

"Your parents actually named you that?"

"No, they didn't."

Stiles' tone grew cold. Michael shrugged and his gaze drifted to Isaac, who was still standing in front of Allison. "And this must be one of yours, Scott."

Isaac frowned, and said, "My name is Isaac, and I don't _belong_ to anyone."

"My bad, Isaac. I apologize." Michael stuck his hand out and Isaac looked at it before taking it. "It's nice to meet you." Isaac didn't smile, but he relaxed inside. He adopted a more neutral stance.

"Isaac is my friend." Scott said. Michael looked back at Scott and turned thoughtful for a moment. "Scott, you weren't raised in this life, so you wouldn't know, but for an Alpha to think of his Betas as anything other than their loyal followers or just soldiers is still a relatively new concept for lycanthrope as a whole. For you to show Isaac a mutual respect and call him friend will mean more to some people than anything else you do during the rest of your life." He winked at Scott before turning to the last two members of the group. Lydia brushed past Stiles and stared their host in the eye as she made her introduction.

"Lydia Martin."

Michael gasped her hand with both of his and shook it gently but firmly. "I was always told to be considerate towards Banshees." He said, nodding in a respectful manner. Lydia narrowed her eyes.

"Why, in case I predict your death someday?"

Michael smirked morbidly. "My kind consider it a great honor to know the way in which we die. Me? I consider it to be a spoiler." Lydia made chuckling noise, then fell silent. Michael regarded the last member of their party with a guarded expression. "When I heard there were Argents in Beacon Hills. I must say I was not too keen on venturing into these hills. I am responsible for not only my safety, but for those that choose to follow me as well. Your family is infamous, girl. What it is your opinion on the 'responsibility' they have given themselves?"

Allison lifted her chin defiantly. "I would have to say that I don't speak for my family. I am my own person, and my father has changed as well since we came here. We're different because people here are different. I didn't even know what the Argent family history entailed until last year. If there's one thing I do know, it's that I won't let anyone make me into an effigy for my family." Her brown eyes held Michaels, (which were a sea-blue, with an inner ring of green) for a moment. He nodded firmly, and smiled slightly.

"Good to know, Allison." With that, he drew himself up to his full height and stepped aside from the doorway, making a directing motion with one arm, and pointing inside with the other. "Well, now that we're all introduced, that means we are no longer strangers, and that means I am formally able to invite you into my home this evening! Please, everyone, enter and be welcome! Dinner will be served shortly. It has been prepared by both myself, and the other members of my Pride, I hope it holds up to your collective standards." Everyone stepped through except for Scott and Isaac.

Scott turned to the Beta and said, "Hey, where were you standing during that whole thing?"

Isaac shifted uneasily. "Behind you."

"Yeah, I saw. Where were you in relation to everyone else?"

Isaac knew what this was about. "Next to Stiles? It happened so fast."

"Nah, come on. Give it a good guess. Who else were you standing next to?"

"Please don't make me say it."

Scott grinned. Isaac found the boot to his chest didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, and it only knocked him off the porch and into the grass, so things could've been worse. Scott had even left the door open for him. He quickly dusted himself off and walked briskly inside, closing the door behind him.

The interior of the house was as nice as the exterior. A dull brownish/gold colored the walls of the expansive entrance room, and the crown molding along the ceiling was colored a muted blue, with fleur del lis decorating it every few feet. The entrance room led to a sizable living room complete with two large couches and an oaken coffee table facing a rather impressive flat screen TV. Beyond this room was a another room with a sizable dinner table that was laden down with all types of food and dishes that would be used to hold the food that was on the table. Gathered around the table was Scott and company, with Michael and the girl Calista they had met earlier as well as two other women who looked to be around their age as well helping put the finishing touches on the last of the meal. Isaac wove around the couches to join everyone sitting down. Scott tore his gaze away from the different dishes as he sat in a seat at the end of the table, and twisted around to offer Michael his help.

"You sure I can't do anything to help you guys, Michael?"

Michael didn't even look up from the kitchen counter as he spread a creamy salad dressing over oven baked broccoli. "Absolutely not Scott. You are a valued guest in this house, and valued guests do not aid in the cooking of meals." He said firmly and brought the finished product out to the table.

As he laid the dish down, Michael cleared his throat, everyone turned to look at him. "Scott, since I have been introduced to your pack, I feel it's only fair to make some introductions of my own." He said, gesturing to the two other girls that were there besides Calista.

Stiles leaned next to Scott and whispered "Anyone else get a _Sister Wives_ vibe off this guy?" Scott kicked him under the table, but Allison put a hand up to her face to hide a smile.

"You've already met Calista." Michael said, gesturing to the olive skinned girl. "Next, we have Rebecca, who's probably the smartest person in this room." A curvy, yet athletic looking, mocha skinned girl who had extremely voluminous, curly brown hair that and freckles on her face waved cheerfully from her position next to the sink. "And then over there by the fridge is Danica." A serious looking brunette with a pixie cut inclined her head and raised her water glass.

The group sitting at the table all gave a chorus of hellos. The girls all sat in the seats left unoccupied around the rectangular table, and Michael sat at the head of the table, so he was positioned directly across from Scott. After everybody was situated, with a 'Bon apatite' they began dinner. They made small talk as they passed various dishes around. Scott learned that Michael was just 18, and the girls were all 17, the same age as everyone else. Everyone would be attending Beacon Hills High, with Danica and Calista finishing their junior year, and Michael would finish his senior year there, as would Rebecca, who had skipped her freshman year of high school.

It was Isaac who asked the first in what would certainly be a long line of deeper questions. "Michael, I kind of couldn't help but notice that your 'Pride' consists solely of women, you have to admit, it looks a bit like a harem to people like us. What's up with that?" Allison hit him on the arm, and had a look of warning on her face. She was about to say something to rebuke him, when Michael, Danica, Rebecca, and even Calista all gave out chuckles. Rebecca spoke out for the first time that night.

"Oh, it's nothing like that at all, contrary to how our families would have it!" She drew puzzled glances from everyone at the mention of her family.

Calista spoke up this time. "It's the way that Pride's with a Rex, which is the equivalent of an Alpha like you, Scott." She gestured to him as she spoke. "When there's a male leader, the Head families send 'the best' they have to offer, both as a show of respect and to further solidify their place in the grand pecking order."

Michael took his turn. "I can see this still doesn't make sense. Let me start at the beginning." He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "Were-lions are very big on genealogy. Most families can trace by their Lycanthropic roots by about a hundred years. In the case of my Family, the Ecclestons, and Rebecca's family, the Adubas, can easily trace back over two and-a-half centuries. But it's rare for any family to have a naturally born male were-lion. That only happens once about every fifty births at best. And not every baby born to a family is a werelion. The gene has always been finicky like that. No one can figure out why. But the reason I have three heirs to the four biggest clans is because the male werelion gene for whatever reason runs especially strong in my family. Both my father and Grandfather are Rexes of their Pride's and my younger brother has the gene as well. To put it simply, I'm given 'studding' privileges." He said, making a face.

"You can't imagine what it was like to be a 15 year old girl and be told that you and two others would all be shared by one man." Danica spoke with a certain pride in her voice as she looked at Michael. "And then at the joining ceremony to have the boy you've met maybe twice stand up to the leaders of our community and tell them to collectively _stuff it_. It's one of my favorite memories. I suppose it is one of the reasons we all end up doting on him as much as we do. We owe him everything. Some Rex are downright nasty to their Pride. Michael can't hardly even get mad at us properly." She laughed softly. Michael looked bashful all of a sudden and ducked his head a little. It was clear he didn't enjoy being the center of praise

Wait, four clans? But there are only three of you?" Lydia asked confused. Rebecca raised her hand.

"I'm biracial." She said, brushing the skin of her arm with her other hand. "My father is the Patriarch of the Adubas, but my mother is from a smaller family, the Monroes." Lydia nodded to herself.

Scott spoke up this time. "Danica said you stood up to the Elders, Michael? What exactly did you tell them?"

Michael set down his cutlery and slowly said, "Well, you have to understand Scott. 16 year old Michael was quite the dramatic white knight. To me, it was pretty clear that I didn't like the idea of 'having' three women for the sole purpose of sex." He paused and grinned stupidly. "Let me rephrase. It's not that I didn't love the idea of it." He chuckled and had to dodge a half-heartedly thrown napkin from Calista. "It was just that my mother and father raised me on these ideals about love and what not. And I couldn't imagine doing that with more than one woman I didn't in fact love." He chuckled, "I know it sounds crazy, but that's what it was."

Scott grinned at the man's response and opened his mouth again "That answers one question, now for another one: What made you come to Beacon Hills?"

Michael chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and replied. "I honestly couldn't tell you. We were pretty much completely situated out in Arizona until about three weeks ago." At this, Scotts and the others eyes grew wider, thought they quickly wiped the expression off. If Michael had noticed it, he didn't say anything, but Calista narrowed her eyes almost unperceptively. "All of a sudden it was like we were just drawn to Northern California. I honestly couldn't tell you why. And then we heard about a True Alpha werewolf that lived somewhere around this city, and it all kind of fell into place. Werelions are usually more meant for more open areas like fields and whatnot, but Beacon Hill has a certain charm to it." Scott knew why Michael and the others had come, but he wasn't sure he was ready to dole out that little piece of info quite yet.

"That brings me to my last question. What did you mean when you said I was supposed to be your…General?"

Michael smiled more to himself than anyone else and sighed. "Come, Scott, let's take a walk, you and I." He pushed his chair out, leaving his empty plate and cutlery where they were. Scott had finished his meal by now as well and muttered an 'I'll be back soon.' to Lydia and gave Stiles a small fist bump on his way out. He and Michael exited out the front door Michael led him to what must've been a running trail a yard or two into the tree line across the street. It was nighttime, but the half-moon was out, so they could've seen even without their enhanced sight. There was a comfortable silence as they walked the path side by side for a few minutes, each content to be silent until the other was ready. Michael's voice broke the reverie first.

"Scott, do you have any kind of idea the effect you have on people?" At Scott's confused glance, he continued. "You have a gift, man. You bring together people that wouldn't even acknowledge each other under different circumstances. You have a Beta, a Banshee, an Argent, and a regular human all in one group. If you guys were to walk into a bar, there'd be a punchline in there somewhere." Michael looked over at Scott and boffed him gently on the arm. "If there's one thing I know I'm good at, it's reading people. And you are good people Scott. And every one of your friends back in that house knows it. That's why they've stuck with you through some of the shit storms I've heard of." The smile fell from his face, and his lips met in a straight line. "Werelions pass on the Mantle of leadership in two ways. One is the way that is shared by all lycanthrope groups: Death. You kill the King, you are the King. Like the old saying goes 'The King is dead, long live the King. Then there are werewolves who can become great, simply through strength of character. I believe they are called True Alphas if I'm not mistaken" One of his broad shoulders knocked against Scotts in a playful way. "As for werelions, we can ascend to Rex, or Regina if they should be female, by someone voluntarily passing the Mantle onto us. It can't be forcibly bestowed, nor can anyone be compelled to give it. It must be freely offered, and freely accepted. Much like how True Alphas are more powerful than those who take it by force, those who receive the Mantle of Rexhood by choice are stronger as well. If we do so, not only do we get power, but we also get experience. Crucial memories and core beliefs and tenants that defined our predecessor's reign." Scott stopped walking when he heard this.

"Who did you receive your Mantle from?" He asked, and Michael turned to face him.

"My Grandfather, Thaddeus. And he had so much planned, Scott. He was going to change the entire lycanthrope world for the better if he had his way." Michael's voice grew excited at this point, and he resumed walking again. "He was going to bring the supernatural world together. Form a kind of governing body of sorts so that we could manage ourselves. No more living in isolation, waiting for some Hunter to pick you off. We would govern and deal with our own, our way."

Scott almost couldn't believe it. Michael was reaching, maybe, but nothing he said has set off any warning bells.

"What did your grandfather say when you asked him about it?"

At this, Michael stopped walking again. He didn't look at Scott. "Part of passing the Mantle means that whoever bestows it has to give something up…"

Scott stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "He died didn't he?"

Michael nodded, his face downcast. "He was the oldest living Rex alive. Normally the person who passes it on can no longer transform as easily, or sometimes at all. But Grandfather, with him being as old as he was, his body couldn't quite stand that power leaving him. I blacked out for two days after the Transfer. I didn't even get to thank him. That's the other reason I was given the girls as a 'gift,' all that power running through me." He held out his hands in front of him and made a fist. "That's why I'm carrying on his dream. Because he died before he could even set it in motion." He looked back at Scott. "As for the General part, I didn't mean it literally, Scott. There won't be any kind of army to command, but I do need someone who can be my partner. Someone who doesn't want violence. Someone who looks for change. Someone like you, Scott."

Scott was taken aback. "I…I don't know what to say." Michael laughed at this. "I want to say yes, but at the same time, I cant. I only just became an Alpha. I'm still dealing with things here in my city. And I'm not even finished with high school yet."

Michael nodded several times, as if he wasn't surprised. "I figured as much. Honestly, most of that stuff is still years off. No one would really care what a wet-behind-the-ears werelion would have to say, no matter who his family is. Until then, I bide my time. Make connections. Do what I can, where I can. And I feel like most of that can be done here." His eyes met Scotts and held them. "Unless Beacon Hills' resident Alpha has any complaints, I'll put up shop here for the time being. I don't know why, but I think that whatever drew us here didn't stop with us."

Scott scratched his head and chuckled nervously. "Yeeeaaahh about that." Ten minutes later Michael was laughing aloud.

"No kidding, a Nemeton, you say? That's some old Druidic shit there, brother." He said drawing out the word 'old.' "So why don't you have your own Druid anyways? They're like emissaries for werewolves, right?"

Scott scratched his chin, "We kind of have one. He's my employer, a vet. But I think he's retired, or something."

Michael shrugged. "Eh. Not my deal."

He pulled out his phone to look at the time. "Well, pretty sure it's time we headed back now. Been wandering around for half an hour or so. Let's get you back to the house. It is a school night after all."

He stuck his tongue out at Scott and raced off through the underbrush back to his house, with Scott close behind. They entered the house grinning and breathing a little harder from the run. Once inside, they saw the table had already been cleared, with the dishes piled up at the kitchen counter for washing later. Lydia and Rebecca were in a heated but amicable discussion. It seems both of them enjoyed each other's company enough to bring out the hidden genius inside. Stiles was telling everyone else the end of one of his infamous stories as they approached "…and he said, 'I couldn't help it, I saw the third guy coming with pineapples!"' Everyone laughed loudly. Scott took a moment to linger on the edge of the room while he looked over everything. Lydia arguing with Rebecca, both with smiles on their faces. Isaac and Alison sitting closer than was really necessary, Stiles with his usually wide grin as he enthralled his audience. Michael who joined the group and promptly began to annoy both Danica and Calista by poking them until a few well-placed slaps to the back of his head sent him giggling to the other side of the group. Scott knew he would count himself responsible for each and everyone in this room right now. It was kind of what he did. Stiles looked up from his antics and called to his friend. "Hey, Scott! You going to stand over there all night, or are you gonna join us?" Scott smirked and walked over to join his friends. They continued like this for the next few hours. Eventually though, they knew they had to leave for school the next day. As they made their goodbyes, Michael and Scott shook hands again, although this time it was a simple handshake.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scott." Michael promised. "I was there yesterday to finalize my admission. As Scott turned to leave and join the others, Michael's voice made him turn again. "Scott….you're an Alpha. Try to remember that next time you have a problem like you did today." Scott nodded, and thanked him for having them over.

As he joined Stiles and the others in the car, Stiles asked "So….what happened of your little date there, Scott? You two take a nice little walk in the woods? Little hand holding action?" He gasped dramatically and held his hands over his mouth. "Don't tell me you two kissed!" Scott snorted and punched him in the shoulder.

"Nah, Michael seems like a good guy. We had a good talk." And as they drove, he told them what he and Michael discussed.

"He certainly has high aspirations." Isaac said from the back seat.

Stiles didn't seem to share Scott's enthusiasm. "That feels like the pitch the bad guy gives at the last second so the Hero doesn't shoot him on the face. People aren't going to take this kind of restructuring plan well." He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "People don't accomplish something as big as that without a little blood."

Scott frowned a little as he considered his best friends words. The rest of the ride assed in relative silence. After they dropped Claudia at her house and Allison at the apartment she and her father shared, he, Stiles, and Isaac began the ride back to Scott's. As they drove, Scott twisted in his seat to look at Stiles. "You really think he's not good news man?" His eyebrows were furrowed. Stiles looked at him for a moment, then flicked his eyes back to the road before answering.

"Not really, I guess. But Scott, you have to remember Deacon warned us about people like Michael three weeks ago when we did this. He said they would be drawn here. Michael might be nice. But how long will he stay that way? What if he's just sticking around to get you roped in to his plan? What if he doesn't like your answer next time?" Scott bounced his eyes between Scott and the road he was driving on as he spoke. Scott was quiet as he formulated his own answer.

"It's hard to explain." He began slowly. "But when he and I shook hands that time, it was like I _saw_ him. Like, I wasn't just looking at him, but kind of into him as well. Like, his emotions and all that. And what I saw just…." He searched for the right words. "Made me feel at ease, almost. I get that you have your reservations, and I'm not asking you to be his best friend, but give him a chance? For me?" Stiles scoffed, but it wasn't with any conviction.

"Yeah man, why not." Scott grinned to himself, while he reached behind his seat so Isaac could give him daps. 

The next day the group found themselves clustered around a lunch table trying to figure out the issues they had been having since the Nemeton incident.

"Okay," Scot said, flipping idly through a text book as he sat next to Stiles at one of the lunch tables. "So what happens to a person who has a near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?"

"And is unable to tell what is real or not."

"And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?" Stiles and Allison chimed in respectively.

"They're all locked up because they're insane." Isaac offered helpfully.

"Ha." Stiles didn't even bother pretending to smile. "Can you at least try and be helpful, please?

Isaac bristled at the comment. "For half my childhood I got locked in a freezer every night, so being helpful is kind of new to me." He cocked his head to the side, as if daring Stiles to dispute him, which was all too easy for Stiles to go for.

"Okay, dude, are you really still milking that?"

"Yeah, maybe I am still milking that."

Before the two could progress any further into their bickering, a new voice interrupted them.

"Hi." Everyone looked up. It was the new girl from Scott and Stiles' English class. "Sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about." Lydia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her, but said nothing. When no one else said anything immediately, the girl fidgeted a little where he stood, but continued. "And, and I think I actually do know what it is you're talking about. There's a Tibetan word for it, it's called 'Bardo'. It literally means 'in-between state.' The state between life and death." She looked at the group nervously, it was easy to tell she wasn't exactly thrilled with everybody looking at her. Lydia narrowed her eyes at her as she quickly donned her 'ice-queen' attitude that she used for strangers.

"And you would be…?" Before the girl could respond, Scott spoke for her.

"Kira." He offered her a small smile, which she returned. When the eyes of the group, especially Allisons, were turned on him, he deflected it with a forced out, "She's in our history class."

Lydia picked up the slack in the conversation as she regarded the interloper. "So, are you talking about Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?"

Kira bit her lip a little and took the question as an invitation to sit down at the table. "Either, I guess. But all the things you guys are talking about? That stuff happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear." She leaned in, not quite lowering her voice. "You can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities." At this Isaac interrupted her.

"Wrathful deities? And what are those?"

"Like demons!" Kira said excitably, but immediately realized what she aid and frowned a little.

"Demons!" Stiles exclaimed, casting an eye around the table. "Why not?"

"Wait." Allison said slowly "If there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?"

"Death." Said Kira, no longer smiling. "You die."

"Wow." Said Michael as he strolled up to the table, Rebecca in tow. "That really and truly sounds like a mega bummer guys. But that's what happens when you awaken a druid-aarrgh." Rebecca stuck an elbow in Michael's ribs. He gave her a scandalous look as he rubbed the area just under his armpit. Rebecca had gone for the floaters. She glared at him and jerked her eyes in Kira's direction. He raised an eyebrow and turned to look in that direction, noticing her for the first time. He blinked slowly.

"Ahh. I meant to say…a drive to learn about obscure Tibetan Buddhist practices." He offered a weak chuckle. "Hi." Kira waved. Rebecca ground the open palm of her hand into her forehead and Stiles gave a small smile as he shook his head.

—The Pride—

Michael caught up with Stiles and Scott as they made their way to the parking lot after school. "Hey fellas." He said as he matched their pace. What're y'all up to?" Stiles cut his eyes at him.

"Michael, you have to talk normally. Nobody around here says 'ya'll.'" He emphasized the word with a fake country twang. "You'll stick out like a Hillbilly."

Michael chuckled. "Everyone says it where I'm from."

"Oh where is that, southern Alabama?"

"Try northern Florida. Half the people there are from northern US, so we keep all the southern slang, but none of the Southern accent."

"That's so amazing. Please tell me more." Stiles said sarcastically, but it lacked any real heat.

Scott interjected with an, "We're going to see that Druid I was telling you about last night. My boss Dr. Alan Deaton."

At this Michael became interested. "Ooooooh a real druid? Can I come? I've always wanted to see one, ever since last night."

Scott laughed. "Sure. You'll get to see the clinic I work at while we're there."

"Sure you don't have to go tend to your harem, Michael?" Stiles teased.

Michael smirked, "Unfortunately the 'harem' has cross country practice in the afternoons. They need to keep in shape for their husband, obviously." He batted his eyes lashes jokingly. "Speaking of harems, Stiles." He said with a big grin on his face. "I seem to be lacking the proper eunuch to guard them. Feel like volunteering?"

Scott made a low 'ooooh' sound and handed Stiles his water bottle. When Stiles looked at him questionably, he said, "I thought your burn needed some water to cool it off!"

Stiles made a sarcastic laughing sound. "Ha. Ha. Ha." He unscrewed the water bottle and held it threateningly over Scotts head who gamely jogged around just outside of Stiles' reach. Michael joined in and gave chase with Stiles until they both caught up with Scott and dragged him to the ground, holding him long enough for Stiles to empty most of the bottle's contents over Scotts head, who sputtered and blinked water out of his eyes until Michael and Stiles couldn't help it anymore and fell to the ground as well, holding their sides as they laughed at their wet friend. They both looked up to see Scott standing up with his arms folded across his chest.

Michael and Stiles began mock whispering to each other, knowing full well the irate Alpha could hear them.

"I think he's mad at us, Stiles."

"Why, Michael. I do believe you're right. I feel like we should run."

"My car or yours?"

"Yours, I think?"

And with that, they both took off at a dead sprint for Michaels SUV. Stiles looked over his shoulder and let out a perfectly unmanly shriek as his friend closed in on them. "Unlock, unlock, unlock!" He shouted as Michael fumbled to fish his keys out of his pocket as they ran. The car beeped as they reached for the handles.

An hour later, they all arrived at the veterinarian's place of work. Scott had a smug look on his face although he had a friction rash on his back and his shirt was stretched beyond fixing. Michael would burst into fits of giggles every few seconds even though his shirt had a hole on it and his jeans were dirty. As the two got out and started walking towards the doors, they noticed the last member of their little group was missing. They both looked back to see Stiles drag himself out of the car. Not blessed with the athleticism or healing of the other two, he had fared the worst in the parking-lot-wide wrestling three way match that had occurred half an hour before. His flannel shirt had been torn almost in half so he had thrown it away back at the school, leaving him with a graphic tee-shirt that he wore underneath. His hair was messy, and he had a sullen look on his face as he pushed past his two friends.

"Stiles!"

"No."

"But—"

"Shut your whore mouth. I'm not talking to you." Scott shut his mouth with an audible click. That had been pretty nasty for Stiles. They followed the despondent teenager into Dr. Deaton's office. The bald man was peering over one of the many files he kept in there, although upon seeing Scott and company walk through the door, he closed it and set it lightly upon his desk. He regarded them with a well-practiced, welcoming smile.

"Scott, Stiles, good to see you." His eyes turned to Michael, who had walked in last. "And who is your werelion friend?" Michael's eyes went wide. Deaton was good.

"Oh, he's good." He said aloud, turning his head to Scott, who seemed surprised as well. "How'd you know about me? Some super-secret Druidic power?" He waved his hands and wiggled his fingers as if he were some ancient magical practioner. Deaton gave one of his little knowing smiles.

"It's actually much simpler than that. I've traveled quite a bit in my…profession. And one of my innate abilities is to see the certain shape that someone's aura and power take the form of. And I doubt I'd ever forget Thad Eccleston's Mantle, Mr….?" He asked, extending his hand to the shell-shocked Michael, who took it almost numbly.

"Michael Eccleston. Y-you knew my grandfather?" He stuttered out. The doctor nodded, with that same small smile on his face.

"You could say I've made my rounds in the supernatural world." He turned from the suddenly introspective Michael to look at Scott. "I can only assume you didn't just come here to introduce your new friend, Scott?"

Stiles and Scott told Deaton everything that had been happening recently, paying special attention to Stiles dream last night with an entire classroom of people signing at him. As they all walked back to Deacons examination room, he said, "It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you."

Stiles scoffed. "Well how do I tell my subconscious to turn it into a language that I already know?"

"Do you remember what the sign language looked like?"

At this Michael piped up. "Oh, dude, why didn't you mention it was sign language sooner? I could have saved you guys a trip."

"You know Sign Language?" Stiles asked.

"Meh. Enough to blunder through a basic conversation and finger spell what I don't know the actual sign for." Michael said quickly. Deaton added to Michael's statement.

"I know a little as well. Let's give it a shot."

Stiles complied and slowly puppeted what he had seen in his dream. Michael furrowed his brow. "Sign language is a very context based language, so lots of times people don't sign out every word in the sentence, because they don't have to. For instance," He said, lifting his hands up in front of him. "If I were to say 'the father loves the child.' I would sign 'father love child.'" He explained making what Scott could only assume were the corresponding hand movements to the sentence. "So, Stiles, what you signed was 'When door not door.' Which when spoken aloud becomes…."

"When is a door not a door?" Deaton finished. "It's a riddle."

Stiles' face scrunched up. "When is a door not a door?" he repeated incredulously.

"When it's ajar." Michael murmured.

"You're kidding me. A riddle? My subconscious has a hard on for riddles?"

"Not necessarily." Deaton explained. "When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of superconsciousness… You essentially opened a door in your minds."

So what does that mean?" Scott inquired. "That the door to our minds is still open?"

"Ajar." Michael corrected.

"A door into our minds?" Stiles said slowly, and a sour look appeared on his face.

"I did tell you it would be dangerous." Deaton sighed.

"Scott shook his head a little before asking, "What do we do about it?"

"Well," Deaton began, "that's difficult to answer."

"Oh wait a second, I know that look." Stiles said, pointing his finger at Deaton's face. "That's the 'we know exactly what is wrong with you, but we have no idea how to fix it" look." Michael winced.

One thing I do know, is that having an opening into your mind, it's not good." The veterinarian said, shaking his head. "You each need to close that door. And you need to do it as soon as possible. The boys all shared a look. Hey each knew bad things would happen if they didn't. They finished talking to Dr. Deaton and began the walk out to their vehicles. The set had set while they were inside, so the only source of light came from the flood lights above the building, and from a pair of headlights that made their way to where the boys stood. They belonged to a Jeep marked Beacon Hills Sherriff's Office as if pulled into the gravel parking lot. A man in his mid-forties wearing a police uniform and a green blazer that said 'Sherriff' on the back climbed out of the driver's seat. "Dad," Stiles said to the man as he walked up to them. "What're you doing here?" The man was about to say something until he took in Michaels large smiling figure. "Uh…mind if we talk without your new friend." He said, awkwardly waving to Michael, who did the exact same thing.

Scott looked at the Sherriff and said, Oh, he's okay, Mr. Stilinski, he's with us." That got the Sherriff's attention.

"You mean…." He said slowly. "He's _with_ you guys?"

Scott blinked. "I mean, we're not gay."

Stilinski blanched as he tried to recover. "No, no, no." He lowered his voice. "I mean, he's cool with the whole….." He gestured and pointed a finger at the half moon above, then bared his teeth and shaped his hand like he had claws. Now Stiles was looking at his father with an open mouth.

"Jesus, dad. Just ask if he's a werewolf." The Sherriff slapped a hand against his forehead and dragged it down his face before turning to Michael, who had been quiet the entire time.

"You." Sherriff Stilinski said, regaining his composure.

Michael stepped forward and said, "Yes, sir?"

"You a werewolf?"

"No, sir."

"What the hell are you?" The Sherriff asked, squinting at Michael

"Werelion."

"Okay then. As I was about to say before all this. I'm here because I could use some help. Actually," he said looking at Scott and Michael. "I could use your help"

"Why us?" Michael asked.

"Because eight years ago an entire family almost an entire family dies in a car accident." Stilinski said, putting his hands in his pockets. "One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found. There's enough evidence to get me thinking that…that a werewolf could've cause the accident, and then dragged her bod away. If you could somehow get a lock on her scent, if you could somehow find her body, then it might provide the missing clue."

"But what if it was a werewolf?" Stiles asked quietly.

The Sherriff fixed his son with a stare. "Then there's somebody out there who murdered an entire family." He said grimly. "Somebody who needs to be caught.

That next morning all four of them piled into Stilinski's jeep. Father and son rode up front together, with Scott and Michael in the back. As they made the drive, the Sherriff entailed the teens in exactly what he needed them to do. And it wasn't completely legal.

AN:

This here is as good a stopping point as any. Tell me how you liked it!

Next time on _**The Pride**_ : Coyote chases and general shenanigans.


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